


drown me alive

by Fox_the_Hermit



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Break Up, Fantasy, Neither relationship lasts, Rusalka (Water Spirit)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 14:39:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16894524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fox_the_Hermit/pseuds/Fox_the_Hermit
Summary: The Moskva River is green and dark and cold.The Moskva River is where you put things not meant to see the light of day again.But Ichigo's not in Moscow to fish for secrets.





	drown me alive

He's lost so much blood.

Somehow, that's all he can think of. That, and his killer's face.

The water will kill him first. 

Is the water his killer then? Or the vampire?

Or himself? Is this all his fault?

It's in his mouth, in his lungs, slush-like and disgusting and icy, but he can't move, can't try to swim to the surface, can't even thrash like a dying fish. His limbs are too heavy, too cold, his hands are  _ tied _ , and he’s weighted down. Partly by clothes. Partly by the rock he’s tied to.

The water soothes the pain in his neck and shoulder. 

His lungs are on fire. Freezing cold fire.

Why had he done this? All of this? Were all of those months just a pretence?

Is he still standing there? Watching the dark surface grow still and smooth, a black mirror?

The last bubbles of air escape him.

It must only be seconds since he fell.

Seconds. A minute? 

Minutes?

Time is dragging itself out. His magic straining to give him time to think of an escape. But only leaving his thoughts to spin in circles. Leaving ‘ _ why’ _ to resound through his head as everything burns. As everything goes cold and dark and dead.

Except- it's not going dark, now. It's going  _ green _ . A bright, luminous green, like water-nechiyest magic. 

Like…

Rusalka magic.

No.

He barely has the energy for horror. 

_ No. _ Not this. Not like this.

An almost electrical burst of agony runs through his spine. His legs.

His body starts to contort, like when shapeshifting, But wrong. So very, very wrong.

He wants to scream as his bones crack. Reform. Change.

As his mind fogs over with the green. 

As memories dim and fade. 

As something hot starts to pool in his chest.

Rage. 

No. Not just that. Not simply that.

Vengeance-thirst of an unquiet spirit. 

Because he’s dead now.

And then his thoughts lose coherence, as the urge to  _ kill _ swallows  _ everything that he is _ .

 

* * *

 

“Here is your apartment key. I must warn you, part of the apartment is quite cluttered - the previous renter left a bunch of his friend’s things here after he moved out.”

“Thank you, Marina Olegovna. Er, I don’t think it’s going to be a problem for me, I hope. Unless it’s a  _ mess _ , or…”

The landlady smiles at him. “Just Marina, please. It’s not very tidy, I’m afraid, but as far as I know, it’s only paper and things, no dirt or rubbish. He was a bit of an occult guy. I say, you could put the stuff away in boxes, if he decides to come back. I hoped his friend would come pick it up today, but he hasn’t - perhaps the disappearance was too painful… And he can’t bring himself to think about his friend much.”

“Ah, yeah, I will then. Then thank you, Marina.”

“No problem! I’ll leave you to it then.”

The door opens with a creak. Ichigo enters, dragging his heavy suitcase behind him, and locks the door. And bolts it.

You can never be too safe in Russia, as far as he’s heard.

The apartment’s as advertised in the photos; small, but clean and well-kept.

One of the bedrooms, the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom are completely empty of personal belongings; but the second bedroom looks still inhabited, full of stacked books and papers and cases of  _ things _ .

Vanished owner, huh. Weird.

It’s not like he needs this room. But if the owner of the stuff is  _ not _ coming back…

Well, it wouldn’t  _ hurt _ to snoop through his diaries or something. Maybe he wrote down where he was going? Besides, maybe a location of a storage locker can be found somewhere; a place to store all this stuff.

No. That’s just… rude, maybe. What if he still comes back?

And if the guy was  _ actually _ involved with the supernatural… best not to touch his stuff. Who knows what kind of wards might be over it?

Ichigo shuts the door behind him.

He’s got things to do, places to see, people to meet. He’s here as part of his travels, to learn, to have fun.

No use worrying over this stuff. 

It’s not his problem.

 

* * *

 

His neighbour - a short, blond young woman, blinks at him.

“Eh, you wanna know about the previous tenants? I knew them - Kisuke better than Sousuke. They were a nice couple - if this country wasn’t so homophobic, I think they’d have married months ago.”

“Marina Olegovna said one of them vanished?”

“Yeah. Poor Kisuke - he went right crazy at the end. He was polite and friendly, great neighbour… but at the end… I don’t know, man. He was weird. Really weird, even for him. And then he just disappeared one day. And Sousuke moved out.”

“How… do you know they were a couple?”

“Well, originally, it was because the walls in Sousuke’s room that border my apartment were way too fucking thin, and I was in the wrong place at the right time.”

 

* * *

 

Ichigo finishes skimming through yet another diary, too uncomfortable to pry. Much. It’s not what he’s looking for, he doesn’t have to know all of Urahara’s private life and thoughts.

Urahara was a vedmak, huh. A young one, too - his diaries said his powers started to awaken only a couple of years ago. Not that Ichigo knows much about Slavic supernatural stuff- or even his homeland stuff, for that matter.

But Urahara has a  _ lot _ of books; grimoires and handbooks and guides. Plus a whole bunch of spell and ritual ingredients. The real stuff, the kind Ichigo’s seen in his Aunt Kuukaku’s shop, if more… local.

And Ichigo has kind of been doing a  _ lot _ of reading at night. He figure he knows the basic stuff about vedmaks, at least - powerful, magical, shapeshifters, monster hunters, two-souled - with a demon and a human soul - and good at weather magic.

It’s weird. It’s really weird.

A vedmak wouldn’t have left this stuff behind. The books, the notes - some of this stuff looks frankly  _ irreplaceable _ .

But there’s no clue yet as to why Urahara left in the first place - never mind abandon all of his things.

Or why his partner left all of this stuff behind. Why would he fear that it’s cursed, especially… well. Considering how close they were.

What’s more interesting - the diaries, so far, haven’t shown  _ anything _ odd. Nothing that would explain his neighbour’s comment. Ichigo frowns, thinking back.

_ “Poor Kisuke - he went right crazy at the end.” _

But from the diaries… Urahara was anxious, maybe. Depressed, unsure of what to do with himself, his vedmak nature, definitely. Lonely, sometimes, when not able to get in touch with his friends -  _ Yoruichi _ and  _ Mayuri _ . But not  _ unstable _ . Not crazy. Not weird.

Whatever happened to him… it started no earlier than July.

It’s  _ got _ to be in the latest journals.

He starts searching the room for the next one.

 

* * *

 

_ August 24th _

_ There’s someone following me. I think. _

_ I saw him three times this week. When I went to get groceries. On a walk. When I went to Shokoladnitsa for breakfast and to get some work done since my internet at home is still broken. Maybe it’s chance. He might live near here. _

_ I don’t know.  _

_ But. _

_ When I saw him, I didn’t feel safe _ . 

_ Should I worry? _

_ Vedmak instincts are supposed to be very accurate.. _

 

Ichigo frowns. Okay, this is starting to sound promising. But if there was a stalker, wouldn’t people still be looking? Why would the fiancé have already left the apartment, already given up?

He flicks through the next pages, skipping over entries that seem to be the normal thoughts, assorted ideas, grocery lists and day recounts. The guy wrote a  _ lot. _ There are several entries for almost each day. Meticulous note-taker.

 

_ August 25th _ _  
_ _ Should I tell someone? Fiancé?  _

_ Maybe. But what could he do, really? _

_ And besides - it  _ could _ be an accident. Coincidence. There are people that I see regularly around here, walking dogs and going to work and  _ whatever _. _

_ There’s no real reason for this stranger to be any different from them. _

 

Okay, so,  _ maybe _ the stranger thing is irrelevant.

Or... maybe not. Ichigo hums in contemplation, and continues skimming.

 

_ August 27th _

_ I saw him. Several minutes ago. Out of the window. Staring at the apartment block. _

_ My fiancé isn’t home.  _

_ Maybe he just lives close by. _

_ I don’t like this. _

_ Is he a witch hunter or something? But I’m a  _ vedmak _ , and we haven’t had actual evil vedmas around here since before I was born. Maybe he’ll figure it out soon and  _ just leave me alone.

_ Eh, whatever. For fuck’s sake, it’s not like I can’t curse him to oblivion if he gets too close. Messing with mortals is discouraged, but if he starts it, I’m sure that I’m allowed to finish it. _

 

True enough - so the stalker probably  _ isn’t _ to blame for the disappearance. Unless he  _ wasn’t _ human, and could overpower a recently empowered vedmak…

How strong would Urahara have been? What kind of crap lives in Moscow, anyway? There’s bound to be local monsters, but it’s a big city and who knows what came here from Europe and elsewhere...

What could have noticed Urahara, and decided to prey on him?

 

_ September 5th _

_ Hm. I’ve seen him a couple more times - never quite the same places; except when I’m pretty sure he followed me to the cafe again. Twice. _

_ Shame I don’t know any anti-stalking hexes. Perhaps I should look into that… B.  _ _ might have some advice for me. If she feels like answering emails again sometime this century. _

_ At least I have a video call with Mayuri scheduled later today - another tutoring session. Maybe that’ll cheer me up. Mayuri is… always good to talk with. _

_ Shit, really, why am I so stressed about a new person moving in nearby. Must be the autumn already getting to me… _

_ Fiancé asked earlier about what I want for my birthday. Holy shit, I’m really going to be twenty-one this December. I’ve somehow actually managed to survive the past three years, despite being a vedmak, and missing my demonic soul... _

_ Maybe I should actually plan a party for this year. _

 

Okay. Two weeks of this stalking  _ is _ actually worrying. Urahara’s attempt to sound nonchalant in his diary is really shit.

Again,  _ why _ is no one looking into this?

Or does the  _ fiancé _ know his partner is dead, and just unwilling to talk to authorities because it’s a supernatural case?

The next several pages are all… ‘doodles’ is probably one word for them, but Ichigo’s almost tempted to call them art.

There are streets and cafes and stores, all done with a black pen. 

And in each sketch is a dark, ill-defined humanoid shape, lacking any features whatsoever.

 

_ September 8th _

_ I brought this up with Fiancé, finally. _

_ He laughed, and said I’m probably just so tired and busy that I’ve started to hallucinate from exhaustion. _

_...Am I? ...Am I working too hard? _

_ He’s offered to walk around with me sometimes, if I’m still scared. _

_...Perhaps I’ll even take him up on the offer. _

_ Yoruichi also said it’s just stress and nerves. I’m still new to this vedmak crap. It’s not unusual to get paranoid for a while, from what she’s heard. _

_ I’ll… go to bed, and try to sleep in for the next few days. Maybe that’ll help. At worst, I can always try to get anti-psychotics somewhere. _

_ Question to research later: Exactly how many vedmaks die young because of monsters? _

 

Shaking his head, Ichigo continues skimming. Gut instincts are right more often than they’re not. How likely is someone to just start going crazy for no reason whatsoever, with no prior hints? Not very, he thinks.

Unless Urahara wasn’t writing stuff down in his journals - which doesn’t sound likely, from what Ichigo’s read. He’s too detailed, keeps track of  _ everything.  _ Other symptoms would not have escaped his notice.

 

_ September 21st _

_ When Fiancé, or Yoruichi are around, or anyone else I know, I don’t see him. _

_ He only comes when I am alone. _

_ Maybe I really am just paranoid and hallucinating. _

_ This is so annoying! It’s hard to concentrate on my work, when all I want to do is look out the windows and check that he’s not looking at the apartment windows  _ again _. Because that’s a thing now. He stands and looks at the windows, waiting for  _ something _. He has white hair. I’ve seen it, from under the hood. _

_ Fiancé says he’ll ward the apartment. He’s strong, I know that. I should be safe here. _

_ I don’t feel safe. _

 

That’s less than two months ago.

And the stalker has been around for a month. How was the fiancé not seriously worried? Or was Urahara actually genuinely having some kind of breakdown… Maybe some magic went wrong, or something…

Nope. Doesn’t sound convincing to him.

 

_ September 29th _

_ I tried to run after him, when I saw him following me from the bookstore. But he vanished around a corner. I didn’t get a good look. But… he’s tall. Very tall. _

_ Everyone keeps telling me it’s just in my head. I’m a vedmak! I’m just being paranoid about being hunted down! Moscow’s not the safest for my kind! _

_ I don’t know. _

_ Am I just being paranoid?  _

_ Fiancé says it’s fine, that he’ll protect me. _

_ I trust him.  _

_ I’m still scared. _

_ I hate this. _

_ I have a video call with Mayuri scheduled for later. I  _ have _ to get my shit together; we’re covering basics of runic circles today. Those are important to get right. _

_ I don’t want to worry him. I haven’t told him about this. He’s already anxious enough about everything already because of  _ what _ he is; he really doesn’t need the extra stress. _

_ I’ve dropped the project I was planning to work on with Tessai. I don’t… I feel too tired. I haven’t told him why, either. _

_ I don’t want to hear more concerns about my mental health. _

I’m not hallucinating, I’m sure of it.

 

Paranoid? Yeah, well, at that point, probably. And not without an extremely good reason!

Whatever that stalker is… this kind of breakdown sounds like it’s caused  _ intentionally _ . That much deterioration in basically a month…

Really fucking suspicious.

Damn.

Why is he getting invested? This is none of his business.

 

_ October 12th _

_ Fiancé is insisting that I try antipsychotics. _

_ Yoru’s concerned, and asked if maybe I should leave the country and find a good mental health hospital to check into for a while. The local ones are… in our combined opinion, questionable. _

_ I haven’t spoken to anyone but Fiancé, Yoruichi, and Mayuri. For days. _

_ When our neighbour tried to visit, I didn’t even try to go to the door. I was afraid. It’s so stupid. But I thought it was just another hallucination. _

_ what’s wrong with me? why am I going crazy? _

_ i only left the house once in the last three days. _

_ maybe i should find another vedmak. or a healer witch. maybe they can help me. _

_ why is B. still not answering me? I sent an email asking about how to get some water of life. just in case I need it to resurrect someone or something.  _ _ and even a drop or two of it is supposed to cure almost all kinds of afflictions. _

_ or maybe I should just accept that I need antipsychotics and a therapist because I am insane. _

 

Okay, the lapses in the neatness of the handwriting, in the capital letters, are kind of worrying.

Also, his fiancé kind of  _ really _ sucks.

Ichigo shakes his head. He’d really like to have  _ words _ with that guy. And with Yoruichi and Mayuri too. Although, Yoruichi’s suggestion doesn’t necessarily sound bad - leaving the country might mean that the stalker wouldn’t be likely to follow if he’s real, and if he did apparently follow - then that’s clearly a hallucination. And… Mayuri does sound like he was kept an arm’s length away from Urahara’s personal problems.

 

_ October 15th _

_ i haven’t left the house in five days. _

_ Tessai called. i didn’t pick up. _

 

Several entries that are nothing but that. And nothing else written for the day. That’s… a change. And not one that looks good.

 

_ October 18th _

_ I haven’t left the house in eight days. I’ve been cancelling all video calls, all sessions, all tutoring. I don’t want anyone to know I’m like this. _

_ I said I was dealing with some magical trouble. It’s a lie. _

_ I just don’t want anyone else to know I’ve gone mad. _

_ I need help. _

 

Ichigo grits his teeth, almost ripping the page when he turns it over. And since when is isolation healthy for someone’s mental health, exactly? Why did his fiancé just… let him deteriorate like this? Russians might  _ really _ suck at mental health stuff, but this is just  _ ridiculous _ .

He reads the entries more carefully, now, but… they’re all so very much  _ the same _ . And they’re no longer dated. Just… October, on all of them, apparently.

 

_ October _

_ nine days _

_ i’m scared _

_ is this real? i don’t know. my senses, my instincts, say yes. _

_ but no one else is _

_ i’m going mad. aren’t i. _

_ please, someone say i’m not going mad _

_ i can’t trust myself anymore _

_ someone, please _

_ help me _

 

_ October  _

_ 13 days _

_ he’s everywhere, all the time _

_ whenever I look out the window _

_ help me _

_ please  _

_ mayuri _

_ yoru _

_ anyone _

 

All of them, the same. All of them asking for help. Holy shit, why did no one do anything?

 

_ October 29th _

_ 18days Help me Help me Help me HelP mE HElp Me HelpmehelpmeHelpme _ **_h_ ** _ el _ **_pmehelpmehelpmeHELPMEHELPMEHELPMEsomebody please anyone_ ** **HELP ME**

 

The last entry. Dated.

And the least coherent of them all, continuing on for pages, the same words over and over again in increasingly illegible handwriting. 

Help me.

That was like, what, two weeks ago. The fiancé must be _pretty_ _sure_ that Urahara is dead, to have left already. To think he’s irrecoverable.

What does he know?

What does anyone else know?

Right. Obviously, the next step is to contact everyone mentioned in the diary. Not that there are a lot of people, but… They have to know something. Especially the fiancé, and maybe this Mayuri and Yoruichi and… he did mention a Tessai several times. There’s got to be a note of their contact information somewhere in the room… Hopefully. For at least one of them.

Ichigo carefully closes the diary, and puts on the shelf. He found it under the bed, part of a stack of books and notes that seem to have been knocked over. But he doesn’t think the diary belongs there.

Did Urahara do it? The fiancé, looking for answers? Or was someone else here already? 

The mysterious stalker?

Wait. Why is he involved in this? It’s got nothing to with him.

Except that there’s a missing person. And no one seems to care about him being missing.

_ Where did you go, Kisuke Urahara?  _

 

* * *

 

Sure enough, there’s a small notebook near the weird-ass tri-monitor computer setup in the room’s corner, with all the contact information written down. There’s a lot of names - many aren’t noted fully, just nicknames or initials or weird symbols. Paranoid, much?

They’re sorted, though, and Ichigo quickly finds the list named “People I Tutor”, with emails, skype addresses, phone numbers…

Really, a  _ meticulous _ note-taker.

There’s no Mayuri on the list, however - just an ‘M. Kurotsuchi, w-c’.

That must be him, right? There’s no other Mayuri in the book. And none of the other names are on the list.

And if it’s not the right number… It’s not like there’s going to be any harm in calling, anyway.

If Urahara’s disappeared, don’t his students deserve to know?

Ichigo looks at the time. It’s late - past midnight, damn, has he really been reading that long? - but the time zone noted in the notebook... if it’s right, then Kurotsuchi should be up and about anyway, by this time of the day.

Guess he might as well make the call now.

He calls, and waits.

No one answers, the call taking him straight to voicemail.

“ _ This is Mayuri Kurotsuchi. I am currently unavailable. I will call or message back later.” _

Well, there’s hoping he hasn’t mysteriously vanished. But at least it seems he got the right number.

He should ask Marina for the fiancé’s contact information.

It’s not anywhere in the notebook - but it’s not like Urahara  _ would _ have that noted down, right?

Neither are Yoruichi’s or Tessai’s numbers.

That’s… probably because they were close enough friends that Urahara had the information memorised.

Maybe… maybe there’s a perfectly sane explanation for all this shit. Maybe Urahara wasn’t kidnapped, or killed. Though, if he ran away in that disturbed state… that’s not particularly better for him; who knows where he could have ended up, especially as all his important stuff looks to still be  _ here,  _ and not taken with him?

Ichigo goes to sleep, trying not to worry.

Still.

Something about all of this  _ stinks _ .

 

* * *

 

The thought of the hunt consumes him, gnawing at his insides.

All the thinks about is his target. About singing where he can hear, enchanting him, driving him to lose his sanity. About drowning him in the cold and dark.

All he wants to do is kill.

The hunt. The kill. 

There’s nothing else that matters. There’s nothing else that he’s meant for.

 

* * *

 

_ Riiiiiiiing. Riiiiiing. _

Ichigo opens his eyes, staring at the darkness in confusion, before checking the time on his phone.

Right. Seven-ish in the morning. Too early for the sun to be up.

Where- right, he fell asleep in Urahara’s room while going through the diaries again.

The phone rings again, and Ichigo picks up, not even looking at the caller ID. Must be a friend, calling at this bullshit hour.

“ _ You called me yesterday. You left a voice message - you said you are looking for Urahara Kisuke?” _

Ichigo blinks, and startles awake.

“Yeah. Yeah, that was me. And I am. I mean, looking for him.”

There’s a pause.

_ “Who are you? Why are you looking for him?” _

The voice is tinged with an odd, cat-like hissing.

“Why do you care?”

Silence.

“I’m renting the apartment he used to live in. I found some weird stuff in the diaries. And the landlady said he disappeared. I don’t know. It feels like no one is looking for him. I don’t like it.”

More silence.

“ _ I… am also looking for him. I don’t think I know anything that you are not aware of, if you have read his diaries. I… do not think I could be of much help; rather, you would probably be of help to me.” _

“What do you mean?”

_ “He did not say much to me. I only know that he was in trouble, either having problems with his mental health - or being hunted by someone. That is all.” _

“Er. I mean, don’t you at least know where he could have run to? A safe place or something? The diaries made it seem like he knew you well.”

“ _ No, I do not know. And yes, we were very well acquainted - although we have never met in person.” _

Ichigo doesn’t know what to say, and Kurotsuchi doesn’t see fit to continue. If Ichigo had known him any better, he’d have thought the man was choking up. Damn. This isn’t-

“ _ If you want to know more, perhaps… You could talk to his partner, maybe. He doesn’t like talking about it; I suspect he knows something that he doesn't want to share. I haven’t been able to get it out of him. Perhaps… you’ll have better luck. If you find Kisuke’s body… please, call me.” _

“Thank-”

Kurotsuchi hangs up on him.

Well. Ichigo did kind of ring about an unpleasant topic. Especially as Kurotsuchi seems sure Urahara is dead. Perhaps he, too, knows more than he feels comfortable telling Ichigo- or perhaps saying over the phone.

He does sound kind of suspicious, too, but… who knows.

...Damn, and he still doesn’t know how to contact the partner. Or what his name is.

Or, maybe the neighbour mentioned it, and Ichigo forgot. Also possible, sadly. He should have written down everything he was told. Well, it’s not like he  _ knew _ he’d be investigating this!

He was planning to just find out a little bit more about the previous tenants!

 

* * *

 

The apartment block he goes to is in a different part of the city, much further away from the river. It’s… an okay place. Respectable. 

Urahara’s partner doesn’t want any reminders, huh. Ichigo checks the note with the address and the name again, the one the landlady gave him when he asked for the previous renter’s address.

Sousuke Aizen.

He rings apartment twenty-seven, block eighteen.

For a few minutes, there’s silence. Ichigo’s almost tempted to ring again. Or leave.

Maybe it’s a bad time. Maybe he shouldn’t bother investigating this. It’s none of his business.

The police have got to have received a missing person report anyway. Right? Even though no one mentioned that the police have been around to investigate. Someone has to be doing something, right?

Even if he has a sinking that that someone is him, and only him.

He’s halfway to deciding to leave when a voice crackles over the speaker.

“Hello? Who is this?”

“This is Ichigo Kurosaki. Is this Sousuke Aizen? I’m renting the apartment you moved out of a bit ago. I have a couple of questions for you about the apartment, and the stuff in it?”

There is silence for a while, and then the door buzzes.

“You are absolutely welcome to come in and ask any questions you want, Kurosaki-san.”

Okay. Good. Even if the guy identified his accent on the spot.

The lift works, thankfully, and Ichigo has time to ponder what the man in the apartment would be like.

It’s only been a couple of weeks since Urahara vanished.

How is his fiancé coping? What has he been doing?

The elevator stops with a final ‘ding’, and Ichigo exits. The apartment is to the left, and the door is already open in invitation.

Hopefully he’ll get the answers he wants, and can then go back to visiting museums, scouring through libraries, sightseeing, and everything else he came to do.

Aizen meets him at the door.

The man is tall, somewhat taller than Ichigo. Wears glasses - short-sighted, probably, looks like a general nerd. Ichigo’s bad at faces, but... Aizen looks in his late twenties.

Well. A relationship with an age gap. Not something he expected.

“Welcome. It is very nice to meet you; if unexpected,” Aizen greets him. In Japanese. 

Why the language switch? To be disconcerting?

“Er, hello. Yeah, nice to meet you.”

“I apologise for leaving Kisuke’s stuff behind for you to deal with. The past couple of weeks have been... complicated. Regardless, please come in. I am making tea ready.”

Ichigo walks in. 

The hallway is clean, organised, and a set of house slippers is already waiting for him. 

Well, the man seems quite… normal and tidy, if nothing else.

Ichigo follows him to what is presumably the sitting room, glancing around in interest.

There’s not a lot of personal stuff around; just books, mostly. Lots and lots of books.

And someone already sitting on the living room couch. A young man - maybe eighteen, around Ichigo’s own age? - with very long, very  _ blue _ hair worn in a long braid, dark purple shadows under his eyes, and skin an unhealthy shade of white. Like a vampire. Or someone very sick.

And his eyes are an inhuman yellow-gold.

He’d be kind of pretty if he didn’t look so ill.

Nope. He did not just think that. And he is not thinking it.

He’s here to investigate, and only that.

“Ah, I apologise Aizen-san. If you have a guest here, I can leave-”

“No need to worry, Kurosaki-san. Mayuri-san is not a guest - he’s just staying over here for a while, since I didn’t want him to spend so much money on a hotel for the several weeks he plans to spend here, investigating where- where Kisuke- vanished to.”

No way. Surely…

“I presume you are the same Kurosaki I spoke on the phone with a couple days ago?” 

Undistorted by morning brain-fog, Kurotsuchi voice sounds… actually, right now it sounds worse.

How sick is he, and why did he drag himself to this city in this state?

Also, what  _ is _ he?

Aizen blinks at them both.

“You are aware of each other?”

Welp. Uhhhh. No point lying, probably. No  _ need _ , hopefully.

“Yes. I was reading through Urahara-san’s diaries, and I saw Kurotsuchi-san’s name in them a lot, so I called him.”

Aizen looks- Ichigo can’t tell if he looks surprised or worried for a second. And then his face smooths back out into a neutral expression, and Ichigo wonders if he’s actually seen anything at all.

“Give me a moment, I shall bring the tea - is black suitable for you?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” 

“Then please, make yourself comfortable.”

And Aizen turns around, going to the kitchen.

Ichigo picks an armchair, and determinately doesn’t look at Mayuri.

Why hadn’t he mentioned being here? Why not say that he was in Moscow over the phone?

What, was he afraid-

“You are too short to be the man I think is stalking me. Apologies for my presumption.”

Ichigo is jolted out of his thoughts, and involuntarily turns to stare. Kurotsuchi’s voice had been- almost too quiet to hear. Wait, was he  _ actually _ intended to hear that?

His exclamation of  _ “What?” _ , draws out a surprised blink that indicates that, perhaps, he wasn’t.

Kurotsuchi laughs. The sound is vaguely… hysteric. Then he sighs.

“Perhaps I am simply stressed about what had been going on with Kisuke. Perhaps he was not, as Sousuke-san will likely tell you, disturbed. But you are too short to have been the man he said was stalking him. You’re shorter than Kisuke.”

Ichigo blinks. Kurotsuchi sounds… disorganised. Feverish, maybe. Definitely  _ not okay. _

Well. 

That’s… interesting. 

Wait. 

_ Wait. _

“You said… ‘The man I think is stalking me’. Not Urahara-san. You.”

Kurotsuchi tries to conceal a wince, but he’s not fast enough.

He looks sicker and more frail the longer Ichigo watches him.

Is the disappearance of his tutor hitting him _that_ _hard_? Although… Ichigo’s pretty sure that they may have been friends. _Very_ close friends, and not just acquaintances.

“I-it’s not important. The lack of information as to what happened to Kisuke is simply… rather stressful.”

Yeah. And stressful enough to make another person fear that they’re being stalked, even if they’ve likely never been seen in the first person’s company?

Ichigo’s thoughts get side-tracked as Aizen returns with a tray.

A teapot, three teacups, sugar, a small jug of what is probably cream, a pot of marmalade, a plate with assorted presumably-Russian tea-time treats. 

A quintessential Russian tea, from what Ichigo knows.

Right. What’s the rules on that, again?

Aizen serves the tea out, and Ichigo pauses, before adding sugar to it, and taking a sip.

It’s pretty hot, and quite strong, and black. Eh. He prefers hot chocolate, to be honest, but it’s not bad. With lots of sugar added.

Perhaps he should add some of the marmalade…

“So, what would you like to know?” Aizen asks, his face arranged into a pleasant expression, and Ichigo pauses.

It  _ is _ a sensitive topic. Kind of. Er.

Okay, maybe he should try  _ this _ .

“I was reading through some of Urahara-san’s journals, and, uh, I heard that he went missing because of a stalker? Have you heard anything from him?”

Aizen’s eyes flicker closed for a bit too long to be a proper blink, and the polite smile fades from his face momentarily, leaving a blank mask.

“My friend was… mentally disturbed, I am afraid. Whatever you read in those journals… Speaking ill of the dead being a terrible thing notwithstanding, I have to tell you that anything in there is the ranting and delusions of a very, very ill man.”

“So none of it is true?”

Aizen shakes his head. “No. I am- incredibly distraught that I have not seen the signs earlier, not gotten him the help he  _ clearly _ needed.”

“It’s not your fault. You did what you could.” Kurotsuchi sounds oddly… bitter, despite the reassurance. “The rest of us should have done more. And now he’s… gone.”

Ichigo frowns, and finishes his cup of tea. Then pours another one.

“Why are you so sure that he’s dead? It’s only been-”

“Eighteen days.” Aizen supplies him with the number.

“Much as I prefer logic, my gut tells me he’s dead.” Kurotsuchi's face distorts into a grimace, and for a second, Ichigo sees too-sharp teeth. “And, well. For someone that ill, and considering  _ who _ Kisuke was, there are… certain elements that would have…”

“You mean, him being a vedmak, and the city being home to a great deal of nechiyest?”

Kurotsuchi and Aizen stare at him in surprise.

“You didn’t think it was part of the delusions?” Aizen asks politely, but there’s  _ something _ that flickers in his eyes, just for a moment, that puts Ichigo on guard. He knows. He knows something that he’s not telling. But then Aizen smiles, and Ichigo relaxes.

Maybe Kurotsuchi is wrong about Aizen being  _ suspicious _ .

“Yeah, my family has…  _ ties _ to the supernatural world. I guess I don’t know much about the local stuff, but I’ve read a bit about vedmaks and nechiyest in general.”

“Well then. It should be quite clear to you, too, that Kisuke is likely gone now.” Ichigo didn’t think Kurotsuchi’s face could get any glummer, but apparently he is wrong.

“Eh, I don’t know. There’s always a chance, right? Do you have any idea where I could start looking though? Somewhere that you haven’t looked before?”

Kurotsuchi shrugs. “I’ve talked to Yoruichi-san and Tessai-san. They don’t know any more than we do - Tessai, less even. Kisuke cut him off early. Yoruichi’s trying to get here as fast as she can, but she’s very busy with family obligations, and is out of the country. But the trail is already too cold, even for her…”

That isn’t the news he was hoping for.

“She’s a were-cat, but the scents were too far gone even for me, a were-cheetah, to track them when I got here a few days ago.”

A were-cheetah? Well, that would explain the eerie eyes.

Aizen sighs. “I am afraid we can’t help you. If you find anything, however… please call us. We… we miss Kisuke more than we can say. And… I do not think we can hold a funeral without a body. It would not be right.”

The conversation devolves to pleasantries after that, Ichigo no longer paying much attention to what’s being said. He drinks until the tea pot is empty, and he can finally politely excuse himself.

He throws a careful glance back into the living room while he puts his shoes and coat on.

Aizen is holding Kurotsuchi close, very close, and- is he leaning in to kiss the shorter man?

That’s a bit  _ fast, _ moving on from his  _ fiancé  _ already.

But it seems to be him initiating this.

He’s probably just lonely... and using Kurotsuchi as a source of comfort. As a substitute.

And it’s none of his business.

He leaves.

Well, at least there’s  _ something _ that makes him feel like the visit  _ wasn’t _ a complete waste of time.

What Kurotsuchi said in the beginning.

About being stalked, about going crazy.

That is… a weirdly fast kind of mental deterioration, and  _ weirdly _ similar to what was happening to Urahara.

And the only thing they have in common is that they seem to be very close to Aizen.

Could someone be targeting them, to get at Aizen? Destroying his loved ones mentally, to watch him suffer?

The man feels… just a little off, just a little too secretive.

And he  _ knows _ something. Away from that disarming smile, Ichigo can remember how certain he was that there was  _ something _ that Aizen wasn’t saying. Does he know the person targeting him, and those that he cares about?

Anyway. Time to get home, and call his friends and family. They’re all very, very invested in this damn  _ mystery _ , and Orihime was already begging for more updates this morning.

But next stop after that…

He’s going to find himself a witch or a vedmak, and see if they can’t help with tracking down a vedmak. Maybe Urahara is warded. Maybe he’s not. 

Ichigo’s not going to know until he tries.

 

* * *

 

He grows accustomed to the darkness of the water quickly, his eyes seeing clearly through the murk and the filth and the  _ green _ .

His killer is out there, on the dry land, beyond his reach. 

All their killers are, his new sisters murmur. 

All our killers are, for now, beyond our reach. We must wait for the great flood that will one day come, to let us swallow the city whole, let us  _ hunt _ .

Sometimes, a thought passes, faintly, that many of his sisters have been long dead. Too long. 

Their killers are not alive.

Why do they still hunt? Still lure the filthy, ugly humans to the water’s edge, then into the water, then under the surface where they drown, drown,  _ drown,  _ while his sisters feast on their blood and flesh?

...Who was he before he joined his sisters?

But the thoughts fade, as he hears the humans on the riverbanks and bridge, as the urge to  _ kill _ rises. It sustains him, the rage making his blood burn cold, startling him to wakefulness in the cold, numbing water, where the darkness promises a place to sleep.

He swims near the shore, and feels the urge to  _ sing _ , to call the humans in, and enchant them and make them go mad as his voice follows him, as the enchantment settles on them, as they go insane, seeing him following them.

But no. He was not killed by a human.

They are not his killers. 

Perhaps some among their number have killed his sisters.

But he can’t hear, can’t smell the dead-blood of his killer.

He doesn’t remember his name. Or face.

He doesn’t remember his own name.

But he will _know_ , surely, _he will know_ _his killer_ when he comes close enough to water’s edge. Unlike his sisters, who attack so many wrong targets.

Or are they wrong? Are there any human men free of sin?

Until then, he must wait. 

In the cold green darkness, listening to the voices of his sisters, listening and learning their deadly songs.

He doesn’t remember when he died - and does it really matter?

Days, or weeks? Months or years?

His killer has lived for longer than that, and shall live longer still, until he can kill him.

The thought of the hunt makes him blank out.

The kill-thirst consumes him like the green did.

 

* * *

 

Thankfully, Kuukaku knows someone who knows  _ someone _ in Moscow who has access to a few private online communities and networks of local part-human and inhuman entities, and it doesn’t take Ichigo long - or, well, not that long - to ferret out a witch that can help him.

Only takes a week of chatting and proving that no, he’s not a witch hunter, he’s not a role-playing human, he’s not crazy or delusional.

Damn, but this lot can be  _ right _ paranoid. A Russian thing?

He sighs, and shakes his head.

At least he’s had time to go visit  _ places _ this week.

And his friends have had the time to come up with the  _ weirdest _ fucking explanations for what’s going on.

He checks his phone, idly, to check out the new channel in their Discord server. The new one is named Murder Mystery. Conspiracy Theories would be a more apt name - but he’s not the server owner.

 

_ Leek-hime 00:29 _

_ Oooh, maybe- maybe it’s some sort of love triangle? _

_ The Other Grumpy Kurosaki 01:47 _

_ like what _

_ Leek-hime 01:58 _

_ Maybe his fiancé was cheating on him with Kurotsuchi!!! _

_ Tatsuki-sensei 02:43 _

_ I mean… Considering they lived in different countries… _

_ Leek-hime 02:45 _

_ No, but they were having a LDR? Online? And the Kurotsuchi came over, and they fell deeper in love, but Urahara was trying to stop it, was doing something about it, so they had to chase him away to protect their star-crossed love! _

_ The Best Kurosaki 02:59 _

_ You think they killed him over their love? I guess… that would explain why they’re so sure he’s dead. _

_ Last Quincy, 3:57 _

_ But would it not have been easier to simply break up? Although, vedmaks can cast very… unpleasant curses. And Kurotsuchi’s uneasiness… perhaps he’s afraid of being haunted by Urahara’s spirit? Vedmak souls can often stick around after their death... _

_ Leek-hime 4:15 _

_ Oh wow oh my god! _

_ That makes so much sense! _

 

Ichigo blinks, and stops reading.

This isn’t a damn  _ soap opera _ , for goodness’s sake.

And neither Aizen nor Mayuri seem like the type to kill people.

Vedmak souls stick around, huh.

Well then. Even if he’s dead… he might  _ still _ be trackable with a spell.

Just need to make sure that he gets some protection from undead spirits then, and something to help him get answers out of them.

So he doesn’t end up dead too.

His dad’s good luck charm is probably  _ way _ not enough for a confrontation with a vedmak spirit.

 

* * *

 

“ _ Have you made any progress?” _

“No, Kurotsuchi-san. Any updates on the stalker?”

_ “... I am dreaming that I am being hunted by a vampire. Or being played with, like a cat plays with its prey, biting and scratching.” _

“I’ll try to see if I can find anything soon.”

  
  


The witch, weirdly, lives right on top of a skyscraper, in one of the nicer parts of the city.

Guess she might like flying, or has a big sky-bound familiar or something.

The lift takes him right up to the thirty-third floor. It takes him a few moments to find apartment one hundred thirty-seven.

Well. 

That’s a definitely a witchy number, if nothing else.

He rings the doorbell, just as the door swings open.

“Come in and be welcome!” calls out a voice from inside the apartment.

He enters, and watches the door close behind him, locking with a click.

Well, that’s not ominous.

Coat and scarf on the coat rack, shoes by the door, plain red slippers on.

Spear by the wall very carefully not disturbed.

He can probably go in further now?

“Oh, do mind the cat!” the voice calls out, from somewhere closer now. What-

A cat walks right past his foot, tails swishing against his shin.

It’s white, with black socks.

Weird. Must be a familiar- or just an unusual pet.

“Hello, Ichigo Kurosaki.”

He looks up, to see where the witch has appeared to stand at the end of the hallway.

She looks… Kind of like he expected a modern-day witch to look like, he supposes. Also, very stereotypical Russian.

Tall, hair a bright yellow-blonde, a mix of clothes that are goth and hippy.

“Er, hello. I didn’t get your name on the forum-”

“Irka will do just fine. So, did you bring something of your vanished friend’s? For the scrying spell?”

Ichigo blinks, and opens his bag, pulling out a hairbrush.

“Awesome. Great. Just give it to me, and follow me to the spellwork room. No time to waste!”

She snatches the brush form his hand almost faster than he can see, the large purple scarf draped over her swishing through the air like so much smoke, and he has no choice but to follow her.

The ‘spellwork’ room is… large. There are shelves lining every wall, bursting with spell ingredients and artefacts, books and crystals. And bones. Ichigo is  _ almost _ tempted to ask.

The middle of the room is perfectly clear, apart from a table  _ right _ smack in the middle.

It’s probably clear to be used for runic circles and alchemical spreads and whatever.

At least there’s no suspicious bloodstains anywhere, because that  _ really _ would have been worrying.

Irka goes directly to the table, where Ichigo sees a bunch of tiny, hollowed out crystal needles, a small stone bowl full of herbs, a… large compass? Except the needle is missing, and a map of Moscow.

“Since I figure it’s best to narrow down the location, the first spell I’m going to try is going to be limited to Moscow only. If it works, then I don’t need to waste ingredients on a stronger spell.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Ichigo asks, concerned.

“If it doesn’t… well,  _ then _ I’ll expand the range. A strong spell can find a soul, alive or dead, anywhere on the planet, but it only gives quite general locations. Which will need more focused scrying anyway.”

“Ah.”

“There’s lots of spells for this kind of thing, but I’m most proficient at short range searching. And something tells me your friend ain’t too far from here, to be honest. Witch’s instincts are almost always right.”

Ichigo can’t think of anything to say. Which turns out to be the right thing, as the  _ next _ thing the witch says is, “Right, no more talking. I need to focus.”

She examines the hairbrush, and pulls off a single blond hair.

Irka chants something - in Russian, Ichigo thinks, but more archaic than he can understand; and drops the hair on the map. For a second, the hair  _ hovers,  _ like it’s uncertain. And then drops to the map, falling to the side to stretch over a section of the city bordering the river. And turns white.

Ichigo blinks. Is that a good sign?

“Well, your friend’s  _ soul _ is still in Moscow alright. And he’s also apparently dead.”

What?

“The hair turned white, only does that when the owner is spirit or something. ‘Course, he could just be in a coma. Or spirit walking. Still, I suggest to prepare for the worst. And keep being silent, I’m not done.”

Right.

Ichigo takes a deep breath, and stares around the room, examining the skulls. They’re not human - all just animals. Cats, deer, canines - there’s even some partial fish skeletons scattered among them. Bones… What kind of spells use bones?

Hopefully, however he had met his end… Urahara wasn’t actually  _ murdered _ .

Smoke reaches his nose, and he turns around quickly. The herbs in the stone bowl are on fire - and the witch is dropping another hair to burn with them, turning the smoke acrid. Then Irka tears up the map, and feeds it to the fire too. 

Shit, hopefully the fire alarm won’t turn on.

The fire burns bright blue as the witch whispers something to it, and feeds in a handful of... dirt? Or ground up brick?

The flames rise higher- and then vanish, leaving behind a surprisingly small amount of ash.

Quickly, the witch gets one of the stone crystals, and a tiny spatula - and put the ash into the crystal, turning it black.

Ichigo turns to look at the needleless compass. Is she…

Yeah, she’s spelling the needle to seal itself, and putting it into the compass. Huh.

“Another way to do this is to just tie a hair around the needle, and cast a tracking spell - but sometimes that doesn’t work well,  _ especially _ with spirits, especially if they don’t want to be found. And a cast spell like  _ that _ fades faster than enchanted seeker-ash.”

Ichigo doesn’t understand half of that, and figures that he probably doesn’t need to. Anyway, just as long as it works, who cares?

“Thanks. Er… now what?”

“I give you this compass, I scatter the ashes to the wind so I can’t use them for my own purposes, I give you a bunch of stuff to make sure you don’t die if you run into an unquiet spirit like a revenant, or a ghoul, or a rusalka, which are bloody  _ infesting _ the local waters.” She shrugs. “Honestly, I’d make these mandatory for everyone to have, if I could.”

The compass and the hairbrush are suddenly thrust into his hands.

“This ain’t covered, so don’t touch the needle, or you might break it or something. And keep the brush safe - never know when you might need the hair. All of this is free of charge, by the way. My community service obligations, I reckon - helping find missing persons.”

Ichigo stares after Irka, as she turns around and starts rifling through a drawer. In short order, an amulet on a chain, a silver bell, a simple wooden cross, a bottle of water, and a bottle of… Salt? are assembled on the top of the drawer.

“Is that for me?”

“Yeah. The amulet is to stop spiritual possession, and stop dead spirits from enchanting you. The bell is to make them freeze, and listen. The cross is to ward off some of the more unpleasant crap. The water is blessed, so you can weaponise it. The salt is to make a circle and either got to wait for dawn, or until I answer a call.”

...He’s not gonna get in  _ that _ much trouble, is he?

“Does this… work for everything?” Ichigo asks, eyeing the pile.

“Eh, mostly. With rusalki, no, but really - you just need to ring the bell and leave if they get too much. Vamps… you’d need a wooden stake and some other crap, and they’re too strong and fast for a human to win against one anyway; zombies are trouble and need actual weaponry.”

“Am I… likely to run into them?”

“Nah, we haven’t had zombies around in ages, and our local vamps behave themselves.” Irka frowns, trying to remember something. “Oh, and also - vengeful souls can usually be calmed if you know their name; they’ll at  _ listen _ to you before trying to kill you. Naming them can help them remember who they  _ were _ .”

Ichigo feels slightly reassured. Only slightly.

How good can his luck be, randomly falling upon a disappearance, and then an apparent murder?

 

* * *

 

He stirs, restless, under the water, in the cold and the green and the dark.

Human voices, scents, filter through faintly. None of them are familiar, none of them are right.

Who was his murderer? Who was he, himself?

No answers. The green has taken the memories of the death, his sisters say. The cold has taken the memories, because they hurt you, and the cold  _ loves _ you, his sisters say.

His prey. When will it come close? How long does he have to wait, until the debt is paid? Until he can hunt and sing and drag his victim to the green and the cold and  _ kill _ .

An eye for an eye, a favour for a favour, a life for a life. 

The water demands the payment for a life extended, a life given - if only a half-life.

The green is hungry. The cold is hungry. His sisters are hungry.

He is hungry.

 

* * *

 

The compass needle points steadily in one direction, which is how Ichigo finds himself walking along a river bank at noon, breath fogging in the air, and wishing for a hot drink in his hands.

The needle started swinging slightly a while back, as though the target is so close that it can’t decide what to point at.

So it’s probably not on the other side of the river.

But surely- not in the river itself, right? 

Ichigo walks over to the icy edge of the river, careful to not actually stand on it. Who knows how thick the ice is.

Well. There’s no one around that he can see.

No spirits showing their faces, either.

Without letting himself consider the wisdom of his decision too much, Ichigo calls out, the silver bell hidden in a sleeve, amulet around his neck.

“Hey! Any ghosts around here? Spirits? The undead? Anything? I don’t have all day, and I think I’m looking for one of you!”

No answer.

Maybe the ghosts are asleep at this time of day?

He should have asked the witch about that.

Not that he really wants to come here at night.

Ichigo eyes the compass.

The needle is pointing at the river.

Maybe… he should try the other side now?

He stares at the water distrustfully.

Hopefully he doesn’t need a boat or something. And hopefully the ghost isn’t at the bottom of the river, too.

It’s too cold and filthy to even think of trying to dive down.

And too creepy, what with illusions of faces in the water.

Maybe that’s why no one comes here, why this section of the riverbank is deserted...

Wait.

What.

The water ripples, as the women rise above the surface.

No. Not women. 

These must be the  _ rusalki _ .

They look a lot prettier than the illustrations in Urahara’s books make them out to be.

Did one of them hunt down, enchant, madden, and then drown Urahara at the bottom of the river? Considering they can’t actually identify their killers, and mistook him for someone he wasn’t?

They start singing.

The nearest one, a brunette with long hair, reaches out to him with a hand, beckoning him closer.

Ichigo’s almost tempted to clasp his hands over his ears,  _ just in case _ , as the amulet grows warm on his chest. The singing is beautiful, but- eerie. Unnerving. Inhuman.

Right. 

To shut them up, and hopefully, finally, get some answers.

Ichigo rings the bell once, twice, three times.

The rusalki go quiet. And then Ichigo closes his eyes, as they seem to  _ blur _ , and  _ shift _ , and his eyes decide that they do  _ not _ like that.

He opens his eyes.

Zombie eel mermaids seems the best way to describe the rusalki.

Matted hair, full of seaweed and dead leaves. Bodies that go from human, to eel-like at the ribs. Bodies that are decayed and fraying and falling apart, and Ichigo can see actual bones poking through their arms and chests and tails.

Some of them are still wearing tattered remnants of clothes.

Yeah.

Yeah, now they look a lot more like the rusalki in the illustrations.

At least it’s too cold for the smell to carry, because that… that has got to stink. So bad.

Decaying eels,  _ yuck _ .

“ _ Why have you come here?” _ hisses one of the rusalki. “ _ With magic and protection and bells. What is your business? You are not vedmak. You are not witch.” _

Ichigo gulps. 

Those teeth are… not the most comforting things to look at.

“I’m looking for Kisuke Urahara. A witch gave me a spell to find him. I thought he was near here.”

_ “That name is not known to us,”  _ the rusalki chorus. “ _ And there are no spirits in this area, not that we know of.” _

Well. Uh.

“I don’t know, have you stalked anyone lately? Enchanted them, drove them mad? Killed them here? The usual thing?”

If that’s the case, there’s shit-all he can do, except maybe ask them to drag up the remains.

“ _ We hunt many. We kill many. We are many, and not all of us are here. We do not remember,”  _ replied the spokes… rusalka?

Ichigo frowns, and rings the bell again. Just in case it’ll get them to talk more.

“I- He was a vedmak? Blond? Are you sure you never got a name from any victim, never heard ‘Kisuke Urahara’?”

The rusalki converse quietly, in agitation.

“ _ A vedmak died. In the water. Yes. Was taken by the river, became a brother. Yes. But that was not us, that was a blood-hunter, a dead-blood. And it was not here. We do not know when.” _

Well. Is everything he finds a waste of time?

He tries to think of another question to ask, but nothing comes up.

“ _ The name… The name is… familiar…” _ whispers a different voice. A different rusalka.

The one in the back, one that was still under the water, is moving to the front now.

Ichigo blinks.

Oh. Oh shit.

Usually, he can’t recognise people for shit. But he’s spent far too long studying photo albums in the past several days.

Short, grey-blond hair that, despite being damp, curls up at the edges.

But aren’t rusalki only women? 

Although… since vedmak souls stick around… perhaps the river caught it, took it, changed it.

“ _ I think… it’s my name,”  _ the rusalka whispers.

So he  _ was _ murdered. 

Brilliant.

And Kurotsuchi is probably stalked by the same…  _ blood-hunter _ .

“Can I call you Urahara then? Or Kisuke?” Ichigo asks. Russian form of address or not?

“ _ Kisuke is… yes, that is my name. Yes. _ ”

Murky green eyes fix on Ichigo.

“ _ What is… your name? Who are you?” _

The other rusalki watch with interest now, not suspicion.

“I’m Ichigo. I’m renting the apartment you used to live in. I found your stuff, found out that you’re missing, decided to look for you.”

Kisuke blinks at him.

“ _ Why?” _

“Because… no else could find you. Or even, your body. I thought… someone should.”

The rusalka stares at him in incomprehension.

“I think the person who- who was stalking you, who killed you, might be targeting your friend. Mayuri Kurotsuchi. I need answers.”

“ _ Mayuri…? I… the name is familiar.” _

Urahara frowns, as though trying to remember. To concentrate.

Ichigo sighs.

“He was your friend. He came to this city - this country - to look for you. I’ve met him. He says he’s being stalked by a tall man.”

“ _ No. The killer, the blood-hunter, the murderer, my KILLER-”  _ Urahara breaks off, his voice turning to ugly snarling and hissing, his teeth bared. “ _ Stop him. I must. You must.” _

Ichigo opens his mouth, but the other rusalki interrupt him, an eerie chorus of “ _ Kill”,  _ and _ “Hunt”, _ and  _ “Yes”,  _ starting to build into a frenzy, a chant of  _ murder _ . Ichigo shivers.

“I’m going to stop him. I promise. I’m not going to let him kill your friend.”

“ _ You are- kind. Yes. Yes. We will stop him. We will find him and enchant him and draw him into the water,” _ chorus the rusalki, speaking as one. Like that’s not creepy at all.

Er. Maybe he’s not going to let them do  _ that,  _ although… 

He knows that, sometimes, the only way to deal with supernatural crap like this is to kill the monster. And letting Urahara have his vengeance… doesn’t that appease undead spirits, and let them move on?

Or… His mother’s words echo in his ears. _ “A life for a life.” _

Would it be possible to bring Urahara  _ back _ , with necromancy or some crap?

“Do you… remember who killed you? Do you know him? Can you describe him?”

The rusalka shakes his head, looking agitated.

Right.

“ _ I am… remembering, bits. Pieces. Maybe… maybe later I will remember more. The cold. The cold has made me forget.” _

The last sentence is so very quiet, almost hoarse, almost  _ human _ , unlike the eerie, high-pitched singsong speech of before.

What did the witch said about repeating a dead soul’s name? It makes them remember.

Well. 

Guess he’s gonna have to wait for Urahara to come back to himself a little more.

Or, probably, a whole  _ lot _ more, judging by his current state.

 

* * *

 

_ Number One Protector, 16:49 _

_ Okay, so. I found Urahara-san. _

_ Leek-hime, 16:50 _

_ He’s alive?????? _

_ Number One Protector, 16:51 _

_ No. Kind of. He’s an undead water spirit. _

_ The Last Quincy, 16:53 _

_ Shouldn’t you find someone to put him to rest? _

_ Number One Protector, 16:53 _

_ No. He’s not that kind of spirit. And I gotta find the man that murdered him first, anyway. The rusalki said the killer is a blood-hunter. Dead-blood. Any idea what the fuck that is? _

_ The Last Quincy, 16:54 _

_ …. _

_ …. _

_ really. _

_ really???? _

_ Vampire, Ichigo. They probably meant a vampire. What else hunts for human blood, exactly? And is common in Europe, especially Eastern Europe? And is dead? _

_ Number One Protector, 16:55 _

_ Unlike you, I have nothing to do with monsters! I’m not a monster hunter! I’ve studied Shakespeare and languages, not the paranormal _

_ The Last Quincy, 16:56 _

_ … _

_ Leek-hime, 16:56 _

_ ……. _

_ My brother is an idiot, 16:57 _

_ ………….. _

_ Number One Protector, 16:58 _

_ Are you telling me all of you would have figured it out on the spot? _

 

* * *

 

Next morning, Ichigo walks along the river bank, squinting at the  _ annoyingly _ bright sun. His apartment isn’t far from the river - and Urahara said if Ichigo called him by the water, he’d hear. He’d come.

The silver bell is till nestled in his pocket, and the amulet is still around his neck. Irka told him to keep them, after he called her, asking about a vampire.

She said she’d get the word out, see if anyone is willing to take a vampire down. See if she can find a ‘specialist’, whatever that means.

He sits down on the edge of the road, his feet hanging over the edge, still a little way above the icy border of the river, and waits.

Several cold minutes later, during which he sips some hot chocolate, the surface of the water is finally disturbed. Urahara holds on to the edge of the ice with clawed, but so very  _ frail _ hands. Undeath is not being kind to him.

His eyes are less green than Ichigo remembers. Just a touch clearer.

“ _ Ichigo… You… called…” _

It looks like he’s struggling for words, unable to remember how to speak - and Ichigo feels- he feels so very  _ sorry _ for what happened to the man that wrote so eloquently in his diaries, who clearly had no trouble with words or thoughts or memories.

This remnant is… pitiful.

“Yeah. Can you remember who killed you yet?”

“ _...Not yet. I promise, I- I will. I must.” _

Ichigo exhales slowly.

The rusalka, if he breathes, has breath so icy it doesn’t steam.

Well, considering he lives in the river… his core temperature must be pretty cold.

“I brought some diaries with me, Kisuke. Your diaries. I thought… if I read some of this to you, you might remember more.”

Green eyes stare at him, with something that almost looks like  _ hope _ .

Do rusalki want to remember who they are?

Do they want their life back?

Ichigo has read that they don’t. Everyone else says that they don’t.

Perhaps a former vedmak is… an exception to a rule. A rule that might not even be set in stone.

“It’s something from before what I think is your killer started stalking you. Do you… want me to read it?”

Seemingly lost for words, the rusalka nods.

 

* * *

 

It’s two in the morning, and whoever’s calling  _ better have a good reason. _

“What,” Ichigo groans in to the phone.

“ _ Kurosaki-san. I- Have you made any progress? I know I called you a while ago, you said you didn’t find anything conclusive. But do you know if Kisuke was stalked? Do you know if it was a vampire or something, it he was?” _

Ichigo shakes his head to clear it. Kurotsuchi sounds- breathless, his voice shakes and threatens to break off.

He sounds terrified.

“Sorry, I’m still not sure. Are you… Kurotsuchi-san, are you all right?”

“ _ I- Yes. I’m fine.”  _

Is that a choked off sob?

God _ damn _ it.

“Are you still being stalked? Still having that nightmare about a vampire?”

Maybe he should mention that it’s less and less likely to be a dream, and more likely actually happening, Kurotsuchi just being hit with the enthrallment afterwards to make him think it’s just a dream.

But if Kurotsuchi panics, starts trying to  _ flee- _

Who knows what the vampire would do to him.

And Ichigo still hasn’t found anyone willing to shelter a sick were-cheetah from a vampire that’s taken down an actual freaking  _ vedmak _ .

There’s a pause. 

“ _ Yes. _ ”

“I swear, it’s going to be fine. You’re going to be fine, Just- hold on, and stick close to Aizen-san.”

“... _ You’re not telling me something. You know. Just like him, you know something.” _

Well, damn. Even as bad as he’s gotten - and Ichigo saw him two days ago, when Kurotsuchi cornered him by the apartment block, begging for news about anyway, and looking over his shoulder every other second, grey with exhaustion - he’s still perceptive.

Damn were-cheetah instincts. 

...Are they the reason Kurotsuchi trusts Ichigo so much? Because he  _ knows _ that Ichigo is safe? Is that why he keeps calling at night?

Or possibly he’s just flat-out paranoid, and suspects everyone of everything.

“Okay. Yeah. I found something. But I promise, it wouldn’t help you right now. And- I think I’m close to finding out what really happened. Just trust me, okay? I’ll explain everything, soon.”

There’s silence.

“ _ Please, whatever you’re doing… do it faster.” _

Kurotsuchi hangs up, without giving Ichigo a chance to reply.

Shit.

He’s deteriorating fast. How much longer does he have left?

 

* * *

 

11th December, 07:02

_ Good morning. _

_ I am writing to you, because Irina Marnova recommended you as the most powerful witch in Moscow. She has only told me the name by which you are known in these circles - the Crimson Witch, or sometimes - the Crimson Princess. _

_ I know someone who is being hunted by a vampire. The vampire that killed a vedmak at the end of October. The vedmak’s name was Kisuke Urahara - perhaps you knew him. _

_ Please, are you willing to help? _

_ With greatest respect and best regards,  _

_ Ichigo Kurosaki _

 

* * *

 

Two weeks of daily visits to the riverbank seem to be paying off, because Kisuke’s eyes go completely clear, completely free of the  _ green _ , by the end of each visit.

They don’t stay clear. 

But they’re lighter than before, each time. More silver-grey, less green.

He can  _ remember _ more.

And listening to him laugh, right now - quietly, weakly - about the entries in his journal of his first experiments with shape shifting and turning himself orange with black stripes instead of actually transforming into a tiger, or only getting half a tail, or getting cat-like eyes except _purple_ _in colour_...

He sounds so human. So painfully human, despite the fact that when Ichigo looks at him, he can see the gills, the too-sharp teeth and clawed hands, the tears in skin.

There  _ has _ be a way to bring him back.

For Kurotsuchi, for Aizen, for Kisuke himself.

Because he’s not happy, like this. He’s not free.

Ichigo can see it. Kisuke needs to leave the water.

 

* * *

 

11th December, 09:02

_ Dear Ichigo Kurosaki, _

_ I would be willing to offer my aid with killing the vampire, and offering your friend brief sanctuary would not constitute a problem for me. _

_ However, in return for helping deal with the vampire, I would like to take a great deal of its blood, bones, and assorted parts as payment. _

_ Is this price to your liking? _

_ Additionally, before I help you, I would like to know two more things: How exactly did Kisuke Urahara meet his fate? Can you provide me with a body?  _

_ If you do not answer me honestly, I will reconsider helping you out with this matter. _

_ Respectfully,  _

_ B. _

 

* * *

 

“ _ I remember… it was someone that I knew. Someone close. He tied my hands, and tied a weight to me, and I sunk into the green and the cold and it hurt, it hurt so much I can’t speak of it now, it ate me and destroyed me  _ and I want to go home, please, please take me home, don’t kill me it’s so cold and I’m scared and I lost so much blood…”

Kisuke breaks off,  _ crying, _ black tears streaming down his face. Lost in his memories of the final minutes.

Ichigo wishes he could offer him comfort. Could promise that Kisuke can go home soon.

But how could he make such a cruel promise, one that he doesn’t know he can keep?

 

* * *

 

15th December, 19:53

_ Good evening. _

_ Yes, I agree to the price of the vampire’s body. _

_ As to what happened to Kisuke Urahara - the vampire fed from him, and then tied him up, weighted him down, and drowned him in a river. _

_ Unfortunately, I cannot provide you with his body as proof - the river took him, and turned him into a rusalka. _

_ And I was wondering - is it at all possible, in this case, to bring him back? Maybe trading the vampire’s life for his? Since his souls is still here? _

_ Respectfully,  _

_ Ichigo Kurosaki _

 

* * *

 

20th December, 23:46

_ Dear Ichigo Kurosaki, _

_ It would indeed be possible. _

_ We would need to perform the ritual at midnight, the midnight where we go from this year to the next, for the power of renewal offered by the hope of people in this city. _

_ With the vampire subdued and available, and Kisuke Urahara’s soul and body still preserved in this world, it will not be difficult to break the river’s hold on him. _

_ However, within the next eleven days, you shall need to identify the vampire for me to capture. _

_ I would also suggest that you bring your friend to my place, as soon as possible. _

_ If the vampire has been stalking, or  _ feeding _ from him ever since he killed Kisuke Urahara - your friend may not have very much time left. _

_ Respectfully, _

_ B. _

 

* * *

 

“ _ Please, Kurosaki-san. Can you- can you stay on the line for the next several hours? Aizen-san isn’t home, and I am sick. Really sick. I’m too dizzy to stand at this moment. I have no one else to call.” _

He’s even more terrified than before. And his  _ voice… _

Damn it. 

_ B  _ said that her place is ready.

_ “ _ There’s a safe place I can take you. Right now, if you’d like. I just need to get over there in the car, and pick you up.”

“ _ Please. Please, come quickly.” _

 

* * *

 

Kurotsuchi’s already standing - or shivering, more like - on the front steps to the apartment building, having exited the moment he saw Ichigo’s car.

He slips into the back the second Ichigo unlocks the car doors, pressing himself into the seat. Trying to hide, trying to be unseen.

_ Damn _ that fucking vampire.

Ichigo doesn’t try to talk with him. What could he even say?

He just turns the car heating to go warmer, and drives.

The address is a tall skyscraper, right by a river.

Maybe the skyscraper thing is a witch thing in general.

“Where are- where are you taking me?” whispers Kurotsuchi.

“Well- You were right. You’re being hunted by a vampire. I found a witch willing to hide you, and then take down the vamp. Once we figure out who it is. Goddammit, Kisuke has barely more than a week left to remember who it is now.”

“ _ He’s ALIVE? _ ” Kurotsuchi is all but  _ screaming _ , and Ichigo winces.

“I- I’m sorry. He isn’t. He’s - I don’t know how, but he’s a rusalka. He… doesn’t remember much. He hasn’t remembered his killer yet. His stalker.”

He watches Kurotsuchi in the mirror.

The momentary excitement, the anger, fades as the were-cheetah slumps into the seat, purring quietly.

Like a cat trying to comfort itself.

It’s sad. And almost  _ cute _ .

Wait. Nope. Not thinking of that.

“I can take you to talk to him. I guess it’s not the safest idea at the moment-”

“I am willing to do whatever it takes to find the one who killed Kisuke. You can use me as bait. I don’t care.” 

...What an  _ idiot _ .

“Considering you’re the one we want to keep alive, I think that’s a pretty dumb idea. Isn’t one dead person enough for you? Have a brain.”

Ichigo frowns, and shuts up.

Perhaps that was… a bit much, because Kurotsuchi is staring at him, stunned.

Has no one told the git that he needs to value his own life?

They arrive at the apartment in silence, and go up in the elevator, Kurotsuchi purposefully looking away from Ichigo.

Whatever. The idiot needed to hear that, apparently.

 

* * *

 

Turns out, the witch wasn’t planning to let  _ either _ of them leave after arrival.

“You presume that the vampire does not know who you are, Ichigo Kurosaki?” she asks, raising dark eyebrows that look so perfect they’re almost unnatural. 

She fixes both of them with an unblinking red stare, and Ichigo gulps.

She looks vaguely vampiric herself. Or maybe demonic. Deathly pale skin, dark red hair, red eyes. But she did was recommended to him by a bunch of people. And Kisuke himself had corresponded with her.

Still, she feels like someone that he  _ really  _ doesn’t want to be on the wrong side of.

“Regardless. Mayuri Kurotsuchi, may I examine you? I would like to ascertain the level of damage to your health- and the extent to which the vampire may have enthralled you.”

Kurotsuchi looks- scared, a little, but doesn’t say no.

Maybe as a were-cheetah, he has finer instincts for danger. Or maybe, like actual cheetahs, he’s just a full-time anxious neurotic wreck.

Ichigo watches as the witch’s long fingers, decorated with silver rings, hover over Kurotsuchi’s temples, and then drift down, not quite touching his throat and chest, to linger over his heart.

She frowns, and purses her lips.

“The enthrallment goes deep. It is a wonder you have managed to leave; the thrall-charm looks like it was applied daily, for… I would wager it started some time in the first week of November. You should be lucky you are a were; a human would have been a perfectly docile thrall by now.”

Ichigo blinks, and looks at Kurotsuchi in concern.

“Daily? But… wouldn’t the vampire need to be pretty close to do that?”

“It is curious indeed. I shall give you a potion - it will reverse what it can, and your mind will reject the rest of the thrall on its own. More worrying, is your physical condition, Mayuri Kurotsuchi. You are quite… weak, very anaemic, very sleep-deprived. And quite starved, although how  _ that _ relates to the vampire problem, I am unsure.”

Kurotsuchi sighs, one hand playing with a braid that’s at this point, a half-undone mess.

He looks paler and more exhausted than ever. Well. For good reason.

“I can give you iron supplements to take, a different potion for improving your general state, and I would advise some good, long rest now. You are safe here. You may rest.

“I shall make some tea and bring the potions. Get yourself comfortable on the couch for now - I’ve folded it out, since you came at... quite an unexpected time,”

She frowns, turns around, and stalks off to the kitchen.

Yeah. They probably woke her up, too- although she looks dressed for the day, in black jeans and a flowing shirt, long dark hair done up in a complicated hairstyle.

She makes the ensemble look elegant, which has  _ definitely _ got to be magic.

“Frankly, while I do not expect him to be able to breach the protections on this place, do expect the vampire to start hanging around the building. Do not stress if you see him,” the witch calls out from the kitchen.

Ichigo can see Kurotsuchi tense up again.

“I think you should… try to sleep, Kurotsuchi san. I can nap on the floor or in an armchair - you take the couch.”

The glance he gets feels derisive. Well.

It’s not like he’s doing this for gratitude.

He seems to have left house in his house clothes, under the sweater and jacket and scarves. Ichigo tries not to  _ watch _ him shed the outer layers, and focus on his own clothes instead - jeans and a t-shirt are okay enough to sleep in, he supposes - but it’s hard not to watch, frowning, as the layers vanish to reveal how bloody  _ thin _ the guy is.

And to reveal that he’s wearing leggings and a loose crop top right now. 

Which is… an  _ interesting _ fashion choice, but who is Ichigo to judge?

No one, that’s who.

The witch, returning with a tea tray, and a bunch of potion vials, doesn’t say anything either. Simply watches Kurotsuchi with a hawk’s eye while he downs the contents of the vials, and two cups of tea.

She leaves, murmuring a quiet “Good night,” before Ichigo can ask her anything.

Damn. 

Okay she’s clearly going back to bed. And he’s just going to sleep on the floor.

“You know, there’s plenty of space here.”

Ichigo blinks, and looks back- and for a moment, doesn’t see Kurotsuchi.

Then he looks down.

A cheetah with faded, thin fur is looking at him intently.

Right. He… hasn’t ever met a shifted were before this, actually.

Must be warmer to be like that though.

“I can sleep on the floor, as long as there is a pillow or too, and a blanket. Cheetahs don’t need beds.”

Urgh. So it’s that kind of bullshit thinking going on, huh? Uryuu-style ‘I was bred for this so I don’t need stuff that would do me a great deal of good’ crap?

Was that what the derisive look was about? 

“I don’t think the witch would approve of me letting a sick person sleep on the floor. You can take one half; I’ll take the other.”

Ichigo has never seen a cheetah look… surprised before.

Granted, he hasn’t seen them outside the zoo, and there, only a handful of times.

He settles down on the left half, only  _ slightly _ awkwardly and then watches the cheetah curl up in the bottom right corner of the laid-out sofa.

He pauses. Then, moving slowly, he takes the blanket Kurotsuchi is lying on, and folds it to fall on top of the cheetah.

There’s a faint  _ cheep _ of surprise, and the big cat shifts his head around, until it’s free of the blanket. And then lays it back down.

Not thanks with this guy, huh?

Ichigo closes his eyes.

He falls asleep to the sound of Kurotsuchi’s self-soothing purring.

 

* * *

 

At least he’d thought to have a bunch of his stuff packed, and brought with him in the rented car, like clothes and a laptop - and in the night, he hadn’t noticed, but Kurotsuchi had stuff with him too, a whole backpack full of things.

And the witch’s internet is really, really good.

Which means none of them have to talk to each other while they wait.

Which is  _ great _ . 

Because Ichigo definitely doesn’t want to talk to Kurotsuchi about waking up, and finding that he was apparently sleep-petting the cheetah’s head and neck and back, and the cheetah was  _ purring _ and  _ chirping _ .

That conversation, preferably, will happen about right about never, just like it hasn’t happened in the last several days.

The only problem is that it’s four days to New Year’s, and the vamp hasn’t shown.

 

* * *

 

“We need to lure him out,” Kurotsuchi says. “Are you sure I shouldn’t call Sousuke-san? What if the vampire does something to him?”

“It is fixated on you. It will not think to touch him. I suppose, if you are willing to act as bait…”

Ichigo glares at Kurotsuchi.

Glaring at the witch would be unproductive. And might kill him.

The woman is a  _ terrifying _ force of nature.

“No. I’m against it.”

“Ichigo Kurosaki, it is his life to risk - and remember. We have less than ninety-six hours to identify it, trap it, and subdue it for the ritual - the ritual on which depends the life of Kisuke Urahara. We cannot wait for him to remember any longer. The trauma and the river-curse have repressed his memories too well.”

She’s right. Ichigo knows it.

And yeah, okay. It is Kurotsuchi’s choice.

Ichigo still hates the idea.

 

* * *

 

He’s sitting by the riverbank with Mayuri - and shit, when did he start calling him that in his thoughts? - waiting for Kisuke to hear the call.

It’s cold today, colder than usual, and snow flurries gently around them. The sun isn’t out.

Ichigo glances at Mayuri. An amulet glows  _ gold _ on his chest - the one to keep him nice and warm, despite his condition.

Another, that Ichigo can’t see, is hidden under the scarves - to make sure that an attack will immediately be noticed by the witch.

Hopefully, in time.

“Mayuri-san, there you are! I was so worried when you disappeared, why haven’t you called?”

Ichigo spins around, frowning.

It’s- that’s Aizen, right?

What, does he have a tracking app on Mayuri’s phone?

Although, the way his former fiancé went missing…

Shit, right, with Kisuke coming- That’s bad, Ichigo’s heard stories of fiancés drowning themselves, trying to join their murdered beloved in the water for the rest of time...

Mayuri hurries over to Aizen, and is welcomed with a hug.

Damn. 

That’s got to be odd for Mayuri now, knowing that Kisuke is still kind of around. Does it feel to him like Aizen is cheating on his former fiancé?

The man does seem to be fond of younger people. Ichigo isn’t sure- but he thinks Mayuri might be his age. Or several months older - still younger than Kisuke, however.

Embarrassed, Ichigo turns away as Aizen starts nuzzling Mayuri’s neck.

...Wait. A. Goddamn. Fucking. Minute.

Aizen is  _ suspicious _ . The vamp was never around Kisuke when Aizen was. Aizen seems to have gotten over his grief oddly quickly.

The charm in his hand, the one to call the witch, is already broken in the half-second it takes him to turn around, and  _ see _ .

Aizen’s not nuzzling, not kissing- he’s  _ bitten into Mayuri’s throat _ , and Mayuri can’t scream because of the remnants of the enthrallment and the hand over his mouth, while the other holds him too close to Aizen to struggle.

Aizen is the fucking vamp.

Holy shit, did he date, and become Kisuke’s unofficial fiancé,  _ just to psychologically torture him before killing him? _

Right.

The stake hidden up his sleeve is already in his hand, and he might be too slow to actually  _ touch _ Aizen - but keep him away for an extra second before the witch arrives? Might work. Besides, he’s not allowed to actually kill him, anyway.

He lunges, aiming the stake at Aizen’s head - braining him like this might not kill him, but would  _ hurt- _

Aizen draws back, moving faster than Ichigo can see, letting Mayuri fall to the ground, blood flowing from a wound in his neck.

Before Ichigo can do anything else except move forward to catch Mayuri, a crimson blurs knocks into Aizen.

And Aizen turns into a dark, black shadow.

And then the two engage in a fight too fast to be tracked by human eyes.

Ichigo doesn’t pay much attention, letting the stake fall to the ground, and carefully, gently, lowering Mayuri on to the snow, keeping him upright and leaning against Ichigo. 

The scarves. Thank god. 

He can use those to staunch the bleeding.

Hoping he’s not pressing too hard for Mayuri to be able to breathe, and trying not to pay attention to the blood seeping out from under the scarf, Ichigo turns to look back at the fight.

He still can’t see them - but there are deep gouges in the tree and the earth, and he can see blades and shards of metal everywhere.

Holy shit, he should probably try to get Mayuri out of here, before one of those knives ends up in him.

The edge of the river. Vamps hate running water.

That should be safer.

 

* * *

 

He’s swimming quickly, magic coursing under skin. Ichigo’s never called for him from this location before.

And they haven’t spoken for- over a day, at least.

His memory is starting to haze over again, like algae starting to reclaim the surface of a pond after being disturbed.

He can still remember- but it doesn’t feel enough. It never feels enough.

He doesn’t want to lose what clarity he has, now.

Then the stench of vampire magic hits him. The spines on his back flare up and out, and the green rises in him.

_ Yes _ .  _ Finally. Time to hunt. _

His body is moving fast, faster than before, and he’s breaching the surface, breathing in the icy air.

The green swallows his thoughts.

He  _ sings _ , and oh, it’s  _ glorious _ . He should have sung before. He should have started hunting before, because it feels so  _ right _ , so  _ wonderful _ , and there’s  _ nothing that matters beyond the hunt  _ and _ the kill _ .

He feels how his song breaks over the vampire, and it won’t be immediately effective. He needs to sing through the protective layers, through the  _ will _ .

But his desire to  _ kill _ is greater than this  _ scum’s,  _ this  _ killer’s _ desire to live. 

Something inside him whispers, naming the vampire differently: _ my love, my dear, my home _ .

The green screams louder, and it screams  _ kill the killer _ , and so he sings for the green, for the cold inside him.

What do memories matter? He’s nothing but the will of the green and the cold.

The vampire is faltering, now, and he knows there’s others in range of the song - but he only sings for the killer-traitor- _ beloved _ .

“ _ Kisuke, stop!” _

The voice is familiar, but only vaguely. Who is Kisuke?

“ _ Kisuke, that’s enough, you’re hurting us too!” _

The name. Why does it feel important?

“ _ Kisuke! Kisuke Urahara!” _

He- he shakes his head, trying to clear it of the voice.

Or of the green. He’s not sure.

Which of them is the clarity, and which the confusion?

His song breaks off, as he tries, tries to  _ think _ past the echoing commandment in his bones to continue singing, to kill.

No. 

This isn’t right. This-

“ _ Kisuke, are you okay? The witch has the vampire, now. It’s done.” _

That’s his name. That’s who he is.

He shakes his head, the green starting to withdraw loose. Spiderwebs on a machine. Seaweed and moss growing over something lost in the bog.

He opens his eyes (when had he closed them?) and stares at the shore.

He can see Aizen, in the distance, bound in a silver net, being hauled away by a woman dressed in red. She is- familiar, but he’s not sure how.

Ichigo. Ichigo is close by, hiding behind a bunch of trees- and there’s a body leaning against him.

Not, not a body. A person.

He’s alive, if faintly.

Long blue hair escaping the scarves.

Memories burn bright, bright enough that he can remember without more prompting.

“ _ Ichigo- you have to go, you have to get him help, his life is fading, _ ” he coughs out, and his voice sounds odd, even to his own ears.

“The witch will be back for us- I… I think he can hold on till then. A hospital would… ask way too many questions.” Ichigo does not sound happy, but now- Kisuke can see the reasoning, the logic.

But the life feels so very  _ weak _ . 

And Sousuke did this.

Sousuke.

Something inside him feels shattered. Broken.

Why had he done this? All of this?

And god, it should have been obvious.

But Kisuke trusted. Trusted, and trusted wrong, and he’ll make sure to never trust anyone like that again, because even if love can be false and betrayed and-

The cold whispers inside him, offering peace, offering to take the pain away. Offering oblivion.

The cold wants him, to keep forever and ever and ever, safe and unfeeling and lacking everything that makes him, him.

Is that what he wants?

“Hey, Kisuke? Are you okay?”

Is he?

“Remember, New Year’s is almost here. And with Aizen, we have everything we need for you. Just- don’t let go of yourself like this again, okay?”

Does he want to live again?

When he has to remember- all of this?

“K-Kisuke?” A different voice. A faltering voice, choked and quiet, but his ears are sharp. Mayuri’s voice. “Are you- there? Am I hearing… Yoruichi-san would...”

It seems like any more speech is beyond him for now.

...Yes. He wants to remember. 

For Yoruichi. Mayuri. Tessai. Everyone else. For Ichigo.

 

* * *

 

Ichigo swallows nervously, and looks at the time. Quarter to midnight.

So very, very close. 

Holy shit, he hopes this works.

He looks around their section of the riverbank.

It’s cold and dark, and no one’s out and about. Too busy being at home with their families, eating and celebrating already.

It’s just the six of them out here. 

Ichigo himself, pacing along the path, a bunch of towels and blankets slung over his shoulders.

Yoruichi Shihouin and Tessai, recently returned to the country, quietly conversing with Kisuke at the river’s edge. He can see that Yoruichi’s petting the top of Kisuke’s head now, like one cat grooming another.

Mayuri, sitting on a nearby bench, watching. Pale and exhausted and still with bandages around his neck, the bite refusing to be fully healed by magic.

The witch, preparing the spell.

Well, technically there’s seven of them. Counting Aizen, unconscious and bound with silver ropes, crosses staked through his hands and feet to immobilise him further.

The witch stops moving, apparently satisfied with what she’s doing, and throws a glance in the direction of the Kremlin.

She can’t seriously see the clock’s face all the way from here, can she?

“Shihouin Yoruichi, if you would be so kind as to help bring your friend as much out of the water as possible, and as close to the offering as can be done? The time for the ritual is very, very limited, and I would rather not waste it.”

Ichigo  _ almost _ offers to help out, before he sees with just how much  _ ease _ Yoruichi pulls Kisuke out of the water, seemingly ignoring how decayed the eel part is. She carries him, bridal-style, to lay him down on the snow next to Aizen.

Out of the water, the remnants of his tattered clothing - a coat, Ichigo thinks it was - look less mysterious, less like spools of long pieces of fabric swirling in the water, and more like a pile of dead seaweed.

The cold doesn’t seem to bother Kisuke, at least.

Yoruichi retreat, letting the witch stand over the two bodies. Waiting. Listening for something none of them can hear. Chanting something they can’t understand.

Ichigo can’t breathe. 

What if this goes wrong? Or the witch makes a mistake?

With no warning, the runic circle under Aizen lights up - and so does the blade in the witch’s hand. The handle is in the middle - one half of the blade glows white; the other half glows  _ black _ .

One blink - and the black half of the strange weapon is plunged into Aizen’s heart.

As the blade is drawn out of the chest, light follows it. It twists and trails in the air, sinking into the dark metal.

Life. _Pure_ _life_ , stolen by the vampire from others. 

The witch kneels by Kisuke’s head, and turns the blade upside down, the white end right above Kisuke’s head

Is she going to stab him too?

Ichigo waits with bated breath.

The witch chants, and red veins form in the blade.

And then something drips from the white tip. 

Water. Water that  _ glows _ .

Is this- is this how the legendary water of life is made?

The drops fall right into the rusalka’s half open mouth.

Now, green water - no, green  _ mist _ \- is now dripping, flowing out of and around Kisuke, pooling on the ground and then starting to trail down to the river. Every moment his body is more human, less eel, less dead.

The drops of the water of life are few - Ichigo counts three, before the last trails of light vanish into knife, and then a last, fourth one. The knife stops glowing. So does the circle.

Aizen’s body disintegrates into ash.

Kisuke is still. Perfectly, utterly still.

Did it- did it now work? Did something go wrong?

He glances worriedly at his watch. There’s less than a second left for this to work-

Kisuke opens his eyes, and draws in a deep, shuddering breath. And starts shivering.

Without thinking, Ichigo is already moving forward, throwing a towel over him.

It’s cold, very cold, and Kisuke’s fresh out of the water and is right on the snow. Hypothermia would not be fun now.

Yoruichi helps him wrap Kisuke in the blankets, to offer as much insulation as possible, and then pick him up. Walking barefoot on ice in this cold is just asking for trouble. 

Kisuke is so light in his hands, but his breathing is warm now, misting in the air like Ichigo’s does. He’s alive.

And Yoruichi’s laughing, loud and happy-

And so is he, actually, and Kisuke, and everyone else, because they actually fucking did it, and they’re laughing so loud they can almost ignore the fireworks going off, because it’s seconds past midnight and New Year’s is here and they’re alive, all of them, and Aizen’s  _ gone.  _ The fireworks almost feel like they’re for them, celebrating with them.

They bundle into Yoruichi’s car, Kisuke wedged in the backseat between Mayuri and Kisuke, Tessai driving, Yoruichi in the other front seat, all of them still laughing.

It’s the most glorious thing he’s ever done, Ichigo thinks dizzily.

The best present he’s ever been given - or gotten?

They wave farewell to the witch out of the car windows - and damn it, she actually  _ smiles _ , which Ichigo didn’t think was possible for her.

“I’ve got a bunch of Kisuke’s clothing at home - Tessai, take us there,” Yoruichi finally manages to say through her laughter. “And I guess we should order food now that we’re free to celebrate New Year’s! And my birthday. And Kisuke’s birthday. And his resurrection.”

Kisuke snorts, but his eyes are still crinkled in a smile. “Really, this is way too may celebrations for one single day.”

“Nah, then we don’t have to remember any extra dates! Hey, Yakitoriya should still be open now. The managers at the local ones still owe us favours, right? Let me order some food online… Any preferences?”

 

* * *

 

They’re quieter by the time they get to Yoruichi’s home - Kisuke’s dozing, and not really paying much attention to the quiet whispers. It feels- safe, almost. Not fully. Not really. But it’s- so much better than it was before he died. So much better.

Yoruichi gets Ichigo to carry him again, apparently not trusting him to get to the bathroom on his own two feet. He doesn’t even want to argue. He’s so tired.

Happy, yes, but also  _ exhausted _ .

He can hear Yoruichi snigger every time she turns around to check on him, and almost feels insulted. It’s not that funny, is it?

Yoruichi gets Ichigo to let him stand on his own, eventually, thank gods- and then promptly shoves him into the room, closing the door behind him.

What, does she think he’s going to try to escape the well-deserved shower?

“Hey, Kisuke, I’ll bring some clothes from the guest room in a sec, so go ahead, and wash. And please use hot water this time! We didn’t bring you back for you to get hypothermia!” Yoruichi calls through the door. “And there better be no silt or seaweed left in your hair when you get out of the shower!”

Laughter escapes him, and- he’s missed this, he’s missed being able to really  _ feel _ , so much, now that he can feel again, and- oh. 

He’s crying now.

So happy he’s crying.

He turns up the heat of the water slowly. Inside he still feels- a bit too cold, like the frost outside bit into his very bones. Damn, hopefully he doesn’t actually have hypothermia.

...Still better than being dead. Still better than the green and the cold.

The hot water is- heavenly. 

It’s nothing like icy water of the river, nothing like when he first drowned.

The memory makes him shiver. Water over his head, seeing the light fade away when sinking deeper- No. This is not that water. And he is safe here. 

At some point, the door opens, and then closes. Yoruichi leaving fresh towels and clothes for him.

Right. He’s must leave the hot, glorious water eventually.

The towels and clothes seem to have already been heated - on a heater or with a spell he doesn’t know, but they’re still wonderfully warm, if much looser than he remembered. Has he really lost even more weight when he was dead? 

And Yoruichi’s given him the pink bunny slippers. Again? Seriously?

He looks at himself in the mirror, before leaving the bathroom.

He’s… mostly the same as he remembers himself being. Except for the longer hair, and the burning-silver eyes.

Well. Some consequence of being dead for two months are to be expected.

The sitting room has already been converted for a party - kind of. Couches have been arranged in a circle around a cluster of tables, the television is on and running some classic winter movie, blankets and pillows are everywhere.

And the tables are  _ covered  _ in takeout, with more bags piled behind Yoruichi’s arm chair.

No way. She  _ didn’t- _

“Look! The man of the hour’s back from the shower!” 

“Yoruichi, you didn’t actually order one or more of everything from the menu, did you?”

She smiles innocently at him, and he snorts in disbelief.

“What? Between you, a vedmak, me, a were-panther, Mayuri, a were-cheetah, and two friend - you don’t think we can finish this off?”

Well, she’s got a point.

 

* * *

 

He feels so full, he doesn’t even want to move from his spot on the couch between Ichigo and Mayuri. 

It’s warm and pleasant and- so unlike the last two months, that he wouldn’t be able to describe it someone else.

Yoruichi is regaling Ichigo and Mayuri with how exactly it came to be that they can order these kinds of feasts almost for free - if only every once in a while. 

He’s tuned the conversation out a while ago, and ignored the television for even longer.

He’s- safe here. Safe and sound and  _ not alone. _

There’s sadness, lingering deep inside - sadness and pain and trauma, and he and Mayuri are probably going to need a therapist to deal with all of Sou- all of the vampire’s shit.

But they’re alive. Alive and safe, all thanks to Ichigo.

His head resting on Ichigo’s shoulder, his hand, hidden under a blanket, holding on to Mayuri’s, he allows himself doze.

And then eventually sink into the darkness of sleep.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this!  
> Please forgive any typos and mistakes - this was written on quite short notice :)
> 
> Please tell me what you think!


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